


Quarter Past Midnight

by artpopchild



Series: Doom Days [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Is Soft, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Stargazing, and so is crowley, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 01:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20883746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artpopchild/pseuds/artpopchild
Summary: “My dear,” he starts before Crowley can saunter off to the kitchen. Crowley shoots him a curious look over his shoulder. “I've heard the stars shine quite exceptionally bright this evening...” The demon smirks. “If I didn't know any better I'd think you're flirting with me.” Aziraphale feels his cheeks begin to flush, his gaze drops to his shoes and his fingers fidget with a button on his waistcoat. Crowley's expression softens immediately. “Angel,” Crowley pleads, making Aziraphale look up at the sound of the familiar nickname. “I'm sorry. Of course I'll look at the stars with you.”





	Quarter Past Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, this is the first part of my "Doom Days" series. A compilation of Aziraphale/Crowley oneshots inspired by/written after the incredible songs on the album "Doom Days" by Bastille. The lyrics simply fit these two idiots far too well. Enjoy!

_My dear, I was wandering in darkness until one day I looked upon your face and my heart burst into flames so fierce not even the blackest parts of my soul could escape._

* * *

It's a quarter past midnight when Aziraphale and Crowley make their way back from the Ritz to continue their drinking at the demon's flat in Mayfair. The redhead is unusually silent, seemingly entirely focused on the traffic in front of them but the steady tap-tap of his fingers against the steering wheel cracks the illusion more and more with every dull thud it resonates. He was obviously working through something in his mind. Aziraphale doesn't comment on it though. Instead, he watches him quietly from the passenger seat as the street lamps pass them by like shooting stars and make his eyes twinkle like the shiniest orbs of amber behind the safety of his sunglasses. He has always been fascinated by them, even way back in the Garden of Eden.

Aziraphale's attention is drawn to the outside world roughly when muffled sounds of music make their way into the car. They pass by a number of night clubs. The streets of London truly never sleep. All they ever do is change, like owls taking over from singing birds in the park for the night. Groups of party people stumble across the pavement. On the corner of the block a young woman sits on the floor, tears streaming down her face. Aziraphale's heart sinks. He is known for his love for stories and there are so many to be told here, sad ones as well as happy ones. It seems like such a shame to let it all go up in flames for the sake of determining whose side is more powerful like a handful of human children on the playground.

The shift in mood does not go unnoticed by Crowley who steps down just a tad more on the accelerator and turns up the volume on the radio, letting the melody of “love will tear us apart” fill the space. He glances at Aziraphale from the corner of his eye and the angel relaxes back into his seat, happily returning his focus to the confines of the Bentley. On any other night he would have chided Crowley for his irresponsible driving habits but with Armageddon scheduled for tomorrow he can't bring himself to care enough.

***** **

“Wine?” Crowley asks when they finally enter his flat. Aziraphale gives a weak nod. He hesitates. “My dear,” he starts before Crowley can saunter off to the kitchen. Crowley shoots him a curious look over his shoulder. “I've heard the stars shine quite exceptionally bright this evening...” The demon smirks. “If I didn't know any better I'd think you're flirting with me.” Aziraphale feels his cheeks begin to flush, his gaze drops to his shoes and his fingers fidget with a button on his waistcoat. Crowley's expression softens immediately. “Angel,” Crowley pleads, making Aziraphale look up at the sound of the familiar nickname. “I'm sorry. Of course I'll look at the stars with you.” Aziraphale lets out a shaky breath as his eyes light up at Crowley's words. “Alright, well, tickety-boo,” he stammers out. The demon rolls his eyes. “Go on up to the roof. I'll grab a bottle of wine and join you in a minute.”

***** **

The bottle of wine is long discarded after being handed back and forth between the two of them for the better part of an hour. Neither has said a word ever since they have climbed up to the roof to sit on the edge with their feet dangling in the air, their gazes raised to the sky that was miraculously clear this night. Crowley has his arms outstretched behind him, using them to prop himself up. Aziraphale sits perfectly straight as usual.

A long time has passed before the angel lowers his gaze to study the man next to him. “So,” he begins, “Alpha Centauri?” Crowley makes an acknowledging sound. “What about it?” “Can you show me?” The demon's head snaps around to look at him, his expression unreadable behind the shield of his dark glasses. Then suddenly he inches closer, his head moving right next to the angel's. His right arm extends in front of them, an elegant finger pointing at a glowing flicker in the far distance. “Right there. Can you see it? It's beautiful this time of year. Best thing I've ever created.”

For the first time in his eternal life Aziraphale understands the sensation of _time standing still_ that those romance novels love to talk about. With the demon nearly glued to his side, radiating a comforting warmth, it is easy to get lost in the beauty of the moment. His eyes close on their own accord when a slight breeze fills his nose with a well-known scent: smoke, earth and something that is inexplicably _Crowley_. It is not enough and then at once it is far too much to bear.

Overwhelmed by their close proximity Aziraphale puts some distance between them. Crowley's arm lowers at that but he does not seem fazed by the action otherwise. He keeps looking at his best-loved creation with an air of awe while Aziraphale stares at him incredulously. “What are we even doing,” he asks sadly, any further thought dying on the tip of his tongue. Finally the demon glances at him. “Avoiding tomorrow,” he says simply, drawing his eyes back to the sky. The syllables fall from his lips like nothing has ever made more sense to him than _this_. “Together,” he adds after a moment, “and that's my favourite part about it.” A soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips and lingers. Aziraphale is stunned to silence. His brain fires at a hundred miles per hour, trying to process the meaning of his statement but failing miserably. His eyes dart back and forth between Crowley's face and insignificant details in their surroundings for a few long seconds until they fixate on the demon's hand that lies between their bodies. In a moment of bravery he dares to rest his hand on top of it. Crowley's face breaks out in a proper smile, he turns his palm and intertwines their fingers easily, tugging the angel closer and placing their joined hands on his right thigh comfortably. Aziraphale blushes. He clears his throat slightly. “You know... well... It seems that I've come to realise that I never really knew what I... what we've had.” He sounds heartbroken, his voice feeble, like even the gentlest gust of wind might blow it away and render his words forever unheard by the universe. His fingers twitch nervously against Crowley's. The demon turns to look at him, his hand squeezing the other's in a reassuring manner. Aziraphale studies him shortly before lifting his free hand to his sunglasses and tugging them off gently. Crowley lets him and in an instant fiery gold pierces into icy blue with an intensity that makes the angel feel like he's staring right into the very essence of his being.

An unspoken question dances between them while Aziraphale searches Crowley's face for a few long moments. Then finally he leans in ever so slightly, closing the distance between them and pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. Crowley's lips are soft and pliant against his own, returning the kiss with a soft insistence. When they pull apart seconds later Crowley grins at him widely. “Well, it seems to me like you caught up in the end.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Crowley has managed not to leave a CD for longer than two weeks in the Bentley. Unrealistic, I know.


End file.
